Dreams, Dreams, Dreams
by bythepalmtrees
Summary: The castaways talk about some of the crazy dreams that they have had over the years on the island.


**_Author's Note: Just for fun! The Gilligan's Island actors always said how much they enjoyed the episodes with dream sequences… So this is a little castaway chat touching on just a few of those great dream scenes._**

The group was gathered around the table one Sunday, having just finished a brunch-like meal. They decided long ago that Sunday would be the day that they could all take a break and just relax and do something fun. Sometimes they would hit upon an idea and have a day of adventure. Other days, each would retire to their own devices. Some days, the activity that would occupy and entertain them just naturally formed on its own…

While the dishes were being cleared that morning, someone brought up a strange dream that they had the night before. That is what led to the lively conversation that followed – one all about dreams.

"I sure have had some crazy dreams over the years," said Gilligan.

No one would dispute that.

"Little Buddy, you've got quite an imagination, even when you are asleep!" affirmed the captain.

Having been "subjected" as he put it, to Gilligan's vivid retelling of his dreams from time to time when he was trying to take his afternoon catnaps, Mr. Howell felt compelled to add, "I would have to concur with the Captain on that point."

"Well, I think dreams are simply fascinating," chimed in Mrs. Howell, clasping her white gloved hands together, scrunching her shoulders up and giving her customary delightful little smile with a wrinkled nose. She fancied herself somewhat of an expert at analysis of human behavior and thought patterns, having spent much time over the years prior to their shipwreck pouring out her feelings to the best known experts money could buy.

Ginger too felt that dreams were important because they were used to further the plots in several films in which she appeared. Both she and Mrs. Howell agreed that they should spend some time right then talking over some of the more interesting dreams the castaways had over the years, and see if they could make anything of them.

The Professor protested mildly, pointing out that the field of dream analysis was highly subjective. However, telling stories was the way they most often passed the time, so he gave in once the others promised not to make too much of a fuss over meanings and motivations.

They were all trying to reach back in their memories to recall some of their more interesting dreams. Gilligan, of course, had the most vivid recollections.

"Hey, remember way back when we were first marooned on the island, and we only had one big hut, and the girls got mad that we wouldn't build them their own, so they left us men on our own?" asked the first mate.

"Leave it to you, Gilligan, to start trouble right from the start," said a quickly irritated Skipper. "Now why did you have to bring that up? Do you want to get everyone all riled up again?"

"Oh, that's okay, Skipper," said Mary Ann. "It all worked out in the end," she said with a smile.

"That's right, Skipper," added Ginger in agreement. "It's all water under the bridge. Besides, it all was kind of funny," said with a large smile and a little laugh as she thought back, remembering the events that occurred at the time.

"Well, I didn't' think it was funny at all!" countered Mr. Howell. "As I recall, I couldn't remember what pills to take, we nearly starved to death, and Teddy and I could hardly get a wink of sleep!"

"Awww… there, there dear," said Mrs. Howell as she comfortingly patted her husband's cheek.

"Well, I must have got some sleep, because I had a crazy dream about being a matador!" Gilligan proclaimed, standing up and demonstrating how he had held out a cape to fend off the oncoming bulls, who, in reality, were the ladies – all dressed in Spanish-style outfits. "When I woke up, I was just standing in the middle of the hut with my blanket saying 'Ole! Ole!'"

As the girls chuckled and Mrs. Howell asked questions about the type of hat she was wearing in Gilligan's dream, the Skipper put one elbow on the table and his hand to his chin. Mr. Howell's eyebrows were up, and the Professor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They all were beginning to remember what they had dreamed at the time.

Gilligan saw their disconcerted faces, and he knew they remembered as well. "C'mon guys. Tell the girls _your_ dreams. They were real doozies!"

"Now Gilligan, I don't think the ladies want to hear what we were dreaming about," said the Skipper, trying his best to move on to someone else.

"Sure we do, Skipper!" proclaimed Mary Ann.

"Come on, Skipper. It's just for fun. Tell Ginger what you dreamed about," she purred.

Getting instantly befuddled, the Skipper began stammering. Finally, of course, he caved in. "Well, all right."

He described, as best he could remember, sitting on cushions, attired as a sultan, with all the ladies dressed as if they were part of his harem, catering to his every wish, feeding him grapes and pouring him wine. He was a bit embarrassed as he began his story, but seemed to be quite enjoying the memory of it all by the time it was complete.

"Oh, Skipper…" said Mary Ann, with a little laugh and a shake of her head.

"Really, Captain!" said an indignant heiress. "A Howell? Acting as a servant? Hmmpph!"

"Indeed!" agreed her husband, who inwardly decided at that moment that he best not relate _his_ dream. His wife surely would have no mercy. He realized how wise it was that he had kept his dream to himself at that time, thus Gilligan, unaware, could certainly not press him on it.

Unfortunately for the Professor, he _had_ told the other men of his dream that night, so of course Gilligan moved on to him next.

"You go next, Professor! You girls are going to love this!" laughed the first mate. He was visibly enjoying being off the hot seat for a change.

"Well, uh… my dream… to my best recollection, was clearly prompted by the absence of the women, thus I had a dream where we were all reunited once again," he offered weakly. He knew he had been the one protesting the idea of attempting to determine the cause and meaning of their dreams, but now he was desperately using that very idea to try and deflect attention.

Gilligan, however, was not going to let him get off that easy. "Well, that's not what I remember, Professor. You said you were Cary Grant and when you came out of the stage door, Mary Ann, Ginger and Mrs. Howell were acting like crazy fans and trying to tear off your jacket and shirt for souvenirs," he said with a large grin.

Ginger and Mary Ann looked at each other then tried to suppress their giggles, putting their hands over their mouths. The workings of the Professor's subconscious – now that was a subject that intrigued them both. He often presented himself as so devoid of emotion, and so unaffected by female attention. Yet his dream clearly revealed that he was not as oblivious to the ladies as he liked to make it seem.

Mrs. Howell felt bad for the poor Professor who was turning redder by the moment, so she slightly reprimanded the two younger women. "Now girls, you mustn't tease the Professor so!"

She herself was secretly flattered that the Professor would group her in with a bunch of young, wild fans. Not that she would ever behave with such a lack of decorum, but ahh… to be young again!

"I'm sure all Ginger's talk of movie stars seeped into the Professor's subconscious, isn't that right Professor?"

The Professor, continuing to blush intensely, could not manage much of a response.

"Well, I… uhh…"

Not wanting the Professor to suffer any more embarrassment, Gilligan quickly interjected and brought up another one of his own dreams.

"Hey, everybody," pulling all eyes off the Professor and back toward him. "Remember when Emily first came to the island? I had a dream about her…"

"Emily? Who exactly was that, Gilligan? I don't recall anyone named Emily landing here on the island, do you Thurston?" asked Mrs. Howell of her husband.

The Professor didn't care who Emily was at that moment. He was just immensely relieved that the conversation had taken a turn in another direction.

"I remember!" said Mary Ann enthusiastically. "It was that poor duck that almost ended up on our dinner table."

The rest of the group began to recollect the commotion that surrounded their feathered friend.

"That's right," continued Gilligan. "I was so worried that something would happen to her that I slept with her in my hammock, and I had a dream that I was a marshal back in the Wild West.

Everyone's interest was now fully piqued. Gilligan went on to relate each of their roles in turn. The Skipper was rolling his eyes as Gilligan described him as the bungling, slightly dimwitted deputy. The Professor displayed a smile as his role was revealed – a cowboy, dressed in black, walking down the dusty street with hands at his sides for the great showdown. It reminded him of the old westerns he used to watch as a child, and he was bemused at the idea of being part of such a scene.

Ginger was happy with her role as the flirtatious beauty, and Mary Ann didn't mind being the supportive girl warning the marshal of the coming lynch mob, as she thought it was probably the way she would have acted, had she lived in an old west town like Gilligan was describing.

When the first mate wrapped up his story, Mr. Howell began to describe one of his nighttime dramas.

"You know, Gilligan… that sounds much like a dream I once had. You were the marshal in that dream as well."

Gilligan looked pleased and sat up a little straighter, looking around the table with a smile as if he actually was a dignified lawman, responsible for the goings on of an entire town.

"As I recall, I was a miner that had struck it rich by finding gold!" he pronounced proudly.

Mrs. Howell looked quite proud and pleased with her husband until he went on to describe his appearance, and the fact that he was going around town telling everyone he had not had a bath in forty years.

"Thurston!" she exclaimed. "Really!" she continued, the word rolling dramatically off her tongue. She inched over slightly and began waving her fan about, as if to drive away the imagined stench. He protested and whined for her to be sensible, as this was only a dream.

The others smiled at their antics. The only thing that was more detectable than Mrs. Howell's perfume that day was her husband's cologne. He was as far away from an old, unwashed, decrepit miner as one could be, yet Mrs. Howell was quite susceptible to the power of suggestion, and quickly allowed described fantasy to become reality.

"Well, as I was saying," continued Mr. Howell, "I had struck it rich you see, and so I brought my bag of gold to the claims office to be weighed. You were the clerk, Professor. I believed I paid you $50,000 for your processing services."

The Professor's eyebrows went up. "Why, that's quite a payment for such a small service."

"Really? It seemed like the going rate at the time," said Mr. Howell as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. _Could I have been being swindled by the unscrupulous townsfolk?_ he wondered to himself as he began to recall that everything in the dream, including a bar tab to cover a few measly drinks, all cost $50,000.

Shaking himself out of his financial reverie, he continued to explain how he had given an I.O.U. for $50,000 to each of the fellow castaways in turn – first, to Marshal Gilligan for police protection and then to Mary Ann, the Girl of the Golden West as she was called in his dream, to save her ranch.

As the millionaire went on to explain how he lost that same amount to the Skipper, an underhanded card shark with a handlebar mustache and an ace up his sleeve, the Professor was fascinated. He kept his thoughts to himself, but he was musing over the interactions the others had with the Skipper in their dreams. Gilligan clearly took on the role of the hero in his own dreams and subjugated the Skipper to the role of the bumbling assistant. That wasn't hard to see. But Mr. Howell clearly viewed the Skipper as more of an adversary. This was something the Professor had observed and noted in his journal from time to time as he watched their real life interactions on the island. There was no true animosity among the castaways, but a certain amount of rivalry displayed itself from time to time between the two men, both powerful in their personalities, in the Professor's opinion.

Mrs. Howell glared at her husband as he over-zealously described Ginger's appearance as the saloon hostess.

"Lovey, dear, you are completely missing the point!" he declared in response to her unspoken, yet clearly understood, indignation.

"And what exactly might that be?" she asked as she folded her arms across her chest in determination.

"The point was that I had given everyone an I.O.U., but when they came to collect their money, I couldn't find the paper that proved I was worth a million dollars. No one would believe me," he whined. "Lovey, they were going to hang me!" he concluded dramatically.

Mrs. Howell's demeanor softened as she began to recall what prompted that dream of her husband's long ago, and how it had been more of a nightmare than anything else. Putting a gloved hand to her cheek she said, "Oh, I remember now dear. Wasn't that when Gilligan lost that sweepstakes ticket?"

Before her husband could answer, a flash of realization crossed Gilligan's face. He said with a smile, "Hey, Mr. Howell, is that why you came and woke me up in the middle of the night, and let everyone back into your club?"

"Yes, well, never mind all that," mumbled Mr. Howell, not wanting his softer side that he tried so hard to keep hidden to become a focal point of the conversation. "I'm sure one of the others would like to share one of their nighttime dramas with us." Afraid to inquire about Ginger's dreams, he turned his attention to the youngest in their group. "Mary Ann, dear, perhaps you would like to share one of your interesting tales with us. I believe you had a bit of a nightmare yourself at one time."

As all eyes turned to the petite brunette, she fidgeted a bit with a loose piece of table matting in front of her. "Gosh, Mr. Howell, I don't know if anyone wants to hear about that again…"

However, as she paused and silently reflected on all the events surrounding the particular dream Mr. Howell was referring to, a smile crossed her face and she continued, "…but I guess it all worked out in the end, and it was kind of funny when I think about it now."

"Tell us about it, Mary Ann," said Gilligan.

"Oh Gilligan, I told you this dream before. Actually, you all know it."

All at the table agreed, but just for fun they all wanted to hear it again, as long as Mary Ann didn't mind telling it. Life on the island became so stagnant sometimes that they relished the idea of living other lives, and hearing how they were envisioned through the eyes of another pepped them up in a way. They knew Mary Ann's dream was a vivid one, so they begged her to tell it again.

"Well, all right," acquiesced Mary Ann, and she went on to relate her dream in full detail. Gilligan was always thrilled to hear of his role as a doctor with a dramatic French accent and beret. The Professor felt a twinge of guilt as Mary Ann continued, knowing it had been partly his foolish statement about poisonous mushrooms that had contributed to her nightmare, but yet he smiled as she told of his dramatic portrayal of a surgeon with the mannerisms of Cary Grant. The Skipper was more pleased than anyone as Mary Ann described him as being the big, strong cowboy doctor. Of course Ginger enjoyed being the attractive nurse that was able to assist the doctors, but was also caring to Mary Ann in her hour of need, and also able to wake her up just in time.

"I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't come into the hut when we heard you call out," said Ginger to her roommate. "Who do you think would have performed the surgery?"

"Ohhhh...," said Mary Ann, shuddering a bit at the thought. "I don't know, Ginger. I'm so glad it was just a dream! All you men seemed pretty confident, but I don't think I would have wanted any of you to actually operate on me!"

She laughed a bit as she recalled how ridiculous they all appeared in her dream, especially Mr. Howell. He looked more like a mad scientist than a physician.

"What's so funny, Mary Ann?" asked the Skipper.

"Oh, nothing," she said with a large smile. "I was just remembering how silly everything was. I wish you all could have seen how you looked in my dream!"

As Mary Ann laughed again, the rest laughed along with her. Time and each other's company certainly did much over the years to heal over old wounds and traumas.

"Anyone else have an interesting dream they would like to share?" asked the Skipper. "How about you Ginger?"

Ginger simply smiled and said she was saving hers for her book – or the movie detailing her life story, whichever would come out first. She loved being dramatic, and leaving an audience in suspense. Clearly many at the table were more than curious to get a glimpse into the inner workings of the mind of Ginger Grant, but apparently they would all have to wait for that to be revealed at a future date. However, so as not to let the interesting conversation they were having that morning die out, Ginger looked around the table and said, "But surely someone else has another dream they would like to tell us about."

Of course, again it was Gilligan that was able to quickly come up with another.

"Hey, remember when that briefcase washed ashore and I had it handcuffed to my wrist? I had a wild dream that night. I dreamed I was a secret agent, carrying important papers, and a lot of you were bad guys, trying to kill me. I worked for the GoodGuy agency, and Professor, you were the chief who gave me my assignments.

The Professor smiled as he contemplated this role.

"Mr. Howell, you were the president of the bad guys and you ran an agency called E-V-I-L, and Mrs. Howell, you were his assistant.

"Aww, you are always in charge dear, even in Gilligan's dreams," said the heiress as she patted her husband's cheek.

"Quite right, my dear," he said with a devious smile. He certainly never headed up an organization so definitively named, yet he felt sure the others would be surprised – or perhaps even shocked – to know just how much duplicity and chicanery actually went on in the world of big business.

"Was I in your dream?" asked Mary Ann.

"Yeah. You were the secretary for the Professor, but you were really an agent working for E-V-I-L. And you tried to get me with some kind of weapon hidden inside a crysthemum… crysenthimam, crys…"

"Chrysanthemum, perhaps?" the Professor interjected.

"Yeah, that's it. Chrysanthemum. Only I got you first with when my secret weapon bow tie fired."

"Oh, Gilligan! That's terrible!" cried Mary Ann as she contemplated, not only her role working for such villainous forces, but also her untimely demise.

"But you were still nice, Mary Ann," reassured Gilligan. "You validated my parking before you fell over onto your desk."

Mary Ann just rolled her eyes and shook her head, reminding herself it was just a dream after all.

Gilligan went on with his tale. "Ginger, you were my fiancé and you were cooking a special dinner to feed me before I left for my top secret mission."

Ginger's eyes widened as she absorbed the scenario in her mind. _Gilligan's fiancé?_ She wondered how she managed to end up in that role in Gilligan's subconscious.

"When I walked into the apartment, you looked all beautiful, but you were also an E-V-I-L secret agent, and you tried to eliminate me too… by kissing me with poisonous lipstick."

"Really? What a way to go…" said Ginger with a velvety smooth voice as she lowered her eyelids and flashed her sparkling move star smile.

"Yeah, only I was smart and had on special protective lip coverings, so when you kissed me the poison went into you instead of me!"

Ginger's eyes flashed wide open at that last comment and a look of shock spread across her face momentarily. She didn't like the idea that a kiss would be the method of her final undoing, but she was glad that she was the glamorous secret agent. It was quite a role in her opinion, even if it was just in a dream.

"What about me, Gilligan?" asked the Skipper. "Wasn't I in your dream?"

"Sure you were, Skipper. So like I was saying, I was continuing on my mission…"

The Skipper interrupted him. "Now, hold on a minute. Who was I in your dream?" he asked with great curiosity.

"Well, ummm… You were my mother," said Gilligan a bit sheepishly.

"Your mother?" thundered the Skipper, as he recoiled backwards in his seat with a cross look on his face, surprised and insulted at the same time.

In reality, Gilligan had told his buddy of this dream long ago, as well as his role in it, but the Skipper had clearly forgotten, so his first mate continued on with his re-telling.

"Well, you weren't actually my mother, but you dressed up like her and tried to serve me poisoned soup. You were pretty convincing, Skipper."

The older sailor just rolled his eyes.

"You know, Gilligan, that is quite interesting," said Mrs. Howell. "I had a dream once where I was Cinderella, and Skipper, you were my dreadful step-mother!"

"What!" replied the captain in disbelief. He was wondering what it was about him that had the others putting him in such a strange role.

The Professor was wondering the same thing. _Perhaps this is stemming from the Skipper assuming the role of the caregiver in their minds_ , he concluded. Although he would assume he would fall more into the role of the father than the mother. Perhaps it was his kindly nature. He was quite soft-hearted after all. Maybe that innate quality was picked up subconsciously by the others.

"Oh, don't worry, Captain. Later on in the dream you were a court official and you got to dance with one of my ugly step-sisters. I'm afraid that was you Ginger, dear."

" _I_ was an ugly step-sister?" replied Ginger with a mix of surprise and horror in her voice. She didn't like that role at all. She liked it even less when Mrs. Howell told her that her wig went flying off during the dance. Ginger crossed her arms, getting slightly angry. She was used to being the focal point and the object of beauty, and she did not care for how she was being portrayed at all.

Mrs. Howell noticed Mary Ann smiling a bit at the idea of Ginger's fall from grace, so she felt compelled to add, "And Mary Ann, dear, you were the other ugly step-sister."

"What!" exclaimed Mary Ann, her smile now gone. "And I suppose my hair went flying off too?" she said with a note of sarcasm, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"No. Actually you were fine when the ball began, although you did have some rather unflattering glasses on, and your voice was quite flinty and nasal as I recall. All was well when you danced with the Professor –"

Mrs. Howell paused and turned toward the man of science, inserting "you were a court official also, Professor."

"I see," he said simply.

Turning back toward Mary Ann, Mrs. Howell continued, "But when you tried to dance with my Thurston,"

Mrs. Howell halted her explanation once again, and turned toward her husband. "You were Prince Charming, dear," she explained.

"Well, of course I was," he said with a smile and large grin as he took his wife's hand and gave it a kiss.

"Yes, well as I was saying, when you tried to dance with the Prince, your dress started going up and down and… your bloomers where showing, dear, so you dashed out of the ballroom," concluded Mrs. Howell.

"Oh!" shrieked Mary Ann, putting her hand over her mouth, as embarrassed as if this scene had actually played out.

Seeing how upset the girls were getting, Gilligan figured he had best move the conversation on to another dream where they held more flattering roles.

"Don't worry girls. I had another dream, and you were both real pretty in it."

Mrs. Howell felt a bit flustered that she was interrupted before the triumphant moment in her dream where she entered the ballroom, bedecked in the finest of gowns, and had her dance with her prince, but she was soon distracted by Gilligan's compelling tale wherein she was the wise mother sending her son off to market with a chest full of jewels.

"Was I another lady in this dream too?" asked the Skipper sarcastically as crossed his strong arms over his chest, his feelings starting to take a hit.

"No, Skipper. In this dream you were a giant!" Gilligan replied.

"A giant?" asked the Skipper, suddenly more interested.

"Yeah. A real big, mean giant. And you lived waaaay up in the clouds, and you owned a goose that laid oranges."

He recalled that Gilligan once had a dream that sounded an awful lot like Jack and the Beanstalk. But Gilligan had told him of so many dreams over the years that he could never remember the details.

"Oranges?" he asked.

"Yeah. Oranges. You had boxes and boxes of them everywhere. But I took the goose so I could bring it back to my mother. And Mary Ann, you were the maid that worked for the giant, and you were helping me escape with the goose."

"Oh, how exciting! Did we make it?" she asked.

"Well, we were about to leave when we heard voices calling for help."

"Who was it, Gilligan?" asked Ginger, wondering how she might fit into the dream.

"It was you and the Professor. You both were locked up by the giant in his dungeon, but I let you out. You both looked old and wrinkly, and your clothes were old and worn out too."

"Hey," said Ginger with a hurt voice and great disappointment. "You said I was beautiful in this dream."

"Well, I'm just getting to that part. You said you were really a princess, and you just needed a kiss to turn you back into one. So I kissed you, and you were beautiful again!"

Ginger smiled with great satisfaction as she pictured the transformation.

"And what of me, Gilligan?" asked the Professor.

"Well, you said you were really a prince, and Ginger said Mary Ann had to kiss you."

"Then what happened?" asked Mary Ann.

"Well, the Professor kissed you alright, but he didn't turn into a prince at all. He just stayed old and ugly and laughed a lot. And he hardly had any teeth."

The Professor's eyebrows went up as Gilligan described his looks and behavior.

"That's when you came back, Skipper. I tried to run away, but you caught me."

The captain sat up a little straighter, looking pleased that he had a more commanding role in this one particular dream of Gilligan's. He also enjoyed Gilligan's subsequent retelling of his 'pirates on the high seas' dream, as they all decided it should be entitled. In that dream the Skipper got to be fierce and swashbuckling – and managed to gain the mastery over his wiry first mate even making him walk the plank, something he himself had dreamt about from time to time.

Gilligan went on to relate many other dreams he had over the years, and entertained them all. They found themselves laughing at the humor, or gasping at the adventure, as he placed their little family group in many other time frames and locales – London, Transylvania, Spain and even some small made-up South American country.

As Gilligan talked on Ginger let her mind wander. _Oh, how wonderful it would be to travel to some of the places Gilligan has dreamt of,_ she thought. If they ever got off the island, she hoped she could land a role that would film on some wonderful location in Europe – France or Italy perhaps. Anything but another tropical island!

Mr. Howell was wondering how he could capitalize on Gilligan's amazing imagination. _Surely there must be a way to turn this bizarre thought process of his into cash somehow,_ he eyebrows rose and fell as he wracked his brain and pondered the possibilities.

The Professor was in deep thought as usual. He was surprised at the variety of roles Gilligan had placed him in. The other's appearances in Gilligan's dreams, while they varied slightly, could be categorized. Ginger was the beauty whom all eyes were upon. Mary Ann ended up being the servant, or the poor or subsidiary one - yet she was generally good natured. Mrs. Howell naturally fell into the role of the mother or protector while Mr. Howell wore the mantle of power in most of Gilligan's dreams. The Skipper's roles were a little more diverse, but also easily categorized. He was frequently placed in a subsidiary role to Gilligan's, which the man of science could easily understand to be Gilligan's subconscious at work to reverse the roles he and his captain held.

However, he mused over what Gilligan must think of him. In Gilligan's dreams the Professor had been an outlaw cowboy, a Sherlock Holmes-type detective, a pirate, the head of a spy operation and a prosecuting attorney. The only consistency he found was in his two appearances as an old man, wherein Gilligan had envisioned him acting quite against his present type. He was laughing, silly and giddy, and very much a fan of the ladies. He wondered if Gilligan thought this is what happened to the scholarly types when they grew old – that they took leave of their senses somehow and reverted to some sort of childlike behavior. He himself began to wonder if that might be his fate. _Fascinating_ , thought the Professor as he silently mulled the subject over in his own mind.

Mary Ann was also fascinated with the dreams everyone was relating, but for a different reason. She loved listening to stories, and could not get enough of them. Tuning in to her favorite dramas on the radio was what transported her off the island in her mind. She loved hearing of different places, and often imagined what her life would be like had she grown up in a different part of the world, or how things could be if she were only a little more assertive or more-traveled.

The Skipper was just shaking his head in wonder, amazed at what went on in the mind of his young friend. Although infuriating at times, he had to admit that Gilligan was more entertaining that anyone he had ever met. He couldn't imagine what life on their island would be like without his little buddy and his wild imagination.

Wrapping up the conversation, Gilligan went on to relate descriptively the dream he had when they found the ancient carvings in the caves which the Professor initially had felt would help get them off the island. As he described their interactions, everyone in the dream seemed to fill their normal roles. The Skipper was his friend and the Howells were the couple with the most power and influence. The Professor was the inventor, and the girls were acting like girls. Ginger even used her charms to help them, much as she did at other times on the island. The only difference was the way they dressed – full fur outfits for all – and the way they talked. Additionally, rather than being the bumbling mistake-maker, Gilligan was the visionary who was leading them all to a better life. That is, until a dinosaur made its appearance.

"A dinosaur?" asked the Skipper quizzically.

"Yeah, Skipper. A great, big dinosaur!"

"Well, I'm glad that's one thing we don't have to worry about running into on the island," said the Skipper as he began to laugh, the others joining in shortly thereafter.

"I guess you're right, Skipper," the first mate relented with a slight bit of disappointment in his voice, wondering what it would be like to have a dinosaur – a nice one – for a pet. But the melancholy feeling he had was but momentary, and soon he was sporting a smile once again and laughing along with the rest.

As their laughter trailed off, several sighs were heard as the group sat quietly around the table for a few minutes, each pondering what their lives would be like in any and all of the situations that they had been assigned in the dreams of their fellow castaways. However, they all smiled in agreement when Gilligan started to speak again, summing up what they were probably were all thinking about the interesting conversation they had that day.

"Boy, dreams sure are funny things, huh Skipper?" said Gilligan.

Patting his young friend on the shoulder, the captain replied, "They sure are, Little Buddy, they sure are."

THE END


End file.
